


Lockdown

by Enid_Black



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 30th anniversary since Good Omens publication, Fluff, M/M, inspired by the you tube video of May 1st, lockdown - Freeform, silly angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:02:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23949583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enid_Black/pseuds/Enid_Black
Summary: It's May 2020 and we're all in lockdown... our favourite Angel and Demon included, apparently!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 78
Collections: Good Omens Lockdown fics





	Lockdown

**Author's Note:**

> Today, May 1st 2020, it's 30 years since the publication of Good Omens, and Neil Gaiman, David Tennant and Micheal Sheen decided to celebrate it with a video on You tube that is ABSOLUTELY LOVELY.
> 
> https://youtu.be/quSXoj8Kob0
> 
> well, the fic starts immediately after it ^^
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy it, and yeah, this is yet another fandom I'm writing on yeeeee! XD

Aziraphale felt guilty immediately after the connection closed. Crowley hadn’t seemed fazed at his refusal, but he knew better. Crowley slept either when he was bored or when he was disappointed.

 _We are supernatural beings,_ he reasoned with himself, _we don’t get sick like other people._

_But we, or better, I, ought to give the example, shouldn’t I?_

He rose from the seat beside the landline, and started pacing the carpet

His foul fiend had sounded really bored and a bit down, and there he was, at ease like never before, allowed to stay with his books and food and…

Yeah.

He missed Crowley.

He had thought that a call would do, taking away the melancholy of being apart. He didn’t expect Crowley to offer to come by, he expected him to be busy… or at least he had hoped he’d be.

If he was out and about tempting people, he could justify going out to thwart his plans. He could justify seeing him.

He hadn’t expected Crowley to _offer_ to go to him, instead of just… _phoneporting_ himself. He had reacted as six thousand of years had conditioned him to. He had refused, stating _human rules_ , nonetheless.

He also had expected Crowley to defy them, to go to him regardless.

He should have known that his demon friend didn’t really go against other people’s will, when he could help it.

While thinking, he had brought all the dishes in the kitchen, disposed of the remains on them, and then snapped them clean and at their place.

He had also donned his pinny and took out the ingredients for the special Aziraphale’s Schwartzwalder Kirsch cake. He had some cherries miracled from before, after all. It wasn’t because it was the only cake that Crowley would surely eat, as it was practically solid liquor. He set to work, while he continued his debate with himself.

_He felt so lonely… and he’s not doing anything bad, shouldn’t he be rewarded for that? Besides, after last August, we’re practically on our own, and we haven’t heard from Above or Below since the not-quite-Apocalypse. And, surely, we shouldn’t go back and forth between each other’s houses, it would be disrespectful of all the Londoners who are abiding the lockdown, and… he can’t possibly leave all his plants alone for a long time, can he, now?_

He kept cooking, maybe whipping the cream with a bit too much force (well, it was firm, at least), but without any miracles, they would have made it bland and tasteless.

While the sponge was in the oven, he kept talking to himself, while he took a bag, miracled it to have much more space in it, and started putting clothes and books and his notes in it. He made the round of the flat and took the extra-soft throw he had on the sofa, putting it in the bag as well, then he came back to the kitchen.

_Well, I’m only checking on him, aren’t I? He lives alone, God knows anything could happen. I’m certainly not going anywhere else and neither of us can get ill, so… it isn’t that bad, is it?_

The oven shrill ring startled him, and he put the sponge out to let it cool before cutting it.

He went in the sitting room, and started taking things out of the bag.

_No, he said he was going to sleep until July, I shouldn’t really disturb him. He’s tired, the whole Apocalypse-that-wasn’t left both of us exhausted, especially the trip to each other’s headquarters. I should, for one, respect the rules, even if they are useless for me, because I need to give the example. I’m an Angel, for Heaven’s sake._

He had just finished putting everything back in the bag again, because, _you never know, it’s good to be prepared for a trip,_ when another thrill from the kitchen told him that it was time to assemble the cake. It took all his attention, cutting the sponge, making sure it absorbed all the liquor it had to before spreading a healthy layer of whipped cream, then the cherries…

At the end, it was a _magnificent_ cake, and it was just _sinful_.

There was no way he could eat it all by himself, it would have been a waste.

And, well, the bag was ready for _any_ trip, wasn’t it?

Aziraphale carefully boxed the cake, smiling softly thinking about Crowley’s reaction to the treat, put his overcoat on, took the bag, the cake, and snapped his fingers, raising his hand and then knocking to a certain demon’s door.

***

He pressed “close the call” on the phone and put it on the desk without much ceremony.

“Ngk,” he groaned, looking wistfully at the phone, hoping it would ring again.

It didn’t.

_Well… I should as well prepare for the two months nap, shouldn’t I?_

His Angel hadn’t wanted him to come. He was _so bored_. There wasn’t _anyone_ around to tempt, and, in any case, it was not like he had done much tempting since August. He had felt like he _needed_ a holiday, and he had taken it.

Yes, he had expected Below to make itself known, but after Aziraphale’s stunt in Holy water with a fucking rubber duck, well… he imagined they would just prefer to pretend that he didn’t exist.

But… at least going back Downstairs had meant being able to mingle a bit, to spend some time with lesser demons that didn’t want to fight with him and appreciated not being hit for a while. The lockdown meant that he couldn’t even go to feed the ducks, not even alone. Yes, yes, he could miracle people not to see him, but… he liked to see people passing, to do people watching.

He liked to people-watching with Aziraphale at his side.

Yes, he liked Aziraphale-watching, ok? He was a demon, he could have vices, he had nothing but vices. At least, he shouldn’t.

He went into the plants room to shout murder at them, he would wake to check them in any case, but it didn’t hurt (him) to put some more fear in them.

He delicately cleaned their leaves, giving them water and using a bit of power to make the ground richer, more supple.

He took a tour of the house, closing curtains, making sure that nothing could spoil in the fridge.

Ha hadn’t noticed the time passing, and he had just taken his glasses off, when he felt a wave of magic, and then, a sure, soft knocking at the door.

_Who? No, it can’t…_

He went to the door, forgoing the glasses, and opened it suspiciously (it might still have been Hastur or Beelzebub) but,

“Angel?” he murmured, surprised.

“Yes, hello Crowley, I…” Aziraphale stopped talking, looking around, apparently embarrassed. Crowley fully opened the door and took in his Angel’s appearance, and the bag and the box in his hands.

“Well? Wouldn’t this be _breaking all the rules?_ ” he raised a single eyebrow, his eyes searching for Aziraphale’s, that kept drifting around. “You said it was _out of the question_.” He leaned on the side of the door, nodding him in, and the angel squared his shoulders and got in, as he answered.

“Well, yes, sure, but… well, I thought that you might be unwell, and I didn’t like to risk it. And then I realized I had some cherries that I had miracled and they would be spoiled, so I had to bake another cake, but I couldn’t possibly eat that by myself again, and then, I thought that if you came to the bookshop, you’d have to go back and forth for the plants a…” smirking, Crowley pushed himself from the doorframe, with a subtle snap to close it, and put a finger on Aziraphale’s lips.

“Angel,” he started. “I know.” Aziraphale’s eyes locked with his and his shoulders deflated. Crowley’s smile slipped from a smirk to a soft one, especially when his Angel dropped completely the act and kissed the finger on his lips. The angel stepped back, put the bag down and the box on the table, and took off his jacket too. Crowley followed him, taking the bag and felt surprise. “It’s quite heavy for a quick visit, isn’t it, Angel?”

“Well,” Aziraphale wasn’t a blabbering mess anymore, it always happened when he relaxed, when he remembered whom he was with, that he was safe, “I couldn’t possibly go back and forth after coming here, could I? And having moved, I think it would be prudent to observe two weeks of quarantine, not even putting a foot out.” He had taken off the vest as well, and loosened the bowtie, looking coy.

“It would be for the best, yes, Angel.” He murmured, agreeing, slithering closer to the plump man.

“It would, wouldn’t it? And you seemed lonely at the phone.” He added, offering his hand to Crowley.

“You too.” The demon answered, taking it and kissing the back of his fingers. His Angel didn’t answer and let himself be pulled closer. “I think I don’t want to sleep until July anymore.”

“I was hoping you’d change your mind, my dear.”

“I’m gonna regret doing that, right?” Crowley smiled, their noses touching, mirth in his Angel’s eyes making him smile devilishly.

“Not one bit.”


End file.
